Shoot! I’d been hoping he wouldn’t ask that. “Because I’ll make sure Poppy understands that you allowed me to talk to Boone even though you didn’t have to. She’ll see that you compromised, not for me or for Boone but for her. Because you love her.”
“Fine.” He puckered his lips as if he had taken a gulp of sour milk. “You can have five minutes, and don’t forget we’re recording you.”
“Of course.” I shook his hand. “Thank you.”
He smiled and my stomach clenched. I sure hoped I hadn’t just made a deal with the devil.
CHAPTER 7
----
A s I waited for Boone in the interrogation room, I examined my surroundings. Shadow Bend might be a small town, but Chief Kincaid hadn’t skimped when it came to the police station remodel. The space contained only a narrow metal table and two chairs, but one entire wall was glass—obviously, a two-way mirror—and cameras and speakers were placed liberally at intervals near the ceiling.
The chief had written a grant to get the money for the modernization. We all knew that the city council would never have approved the funding, since it was common knowledge that Chief Kincaid thought the present mayor, Geoffrey Eggers, was a complete idiot, and the feeling was mutual. So His Honor and the chief were by no stretch of the imagination on cooperative enough terms for the financing to have come from the town’s coffers.
I glanced at my watch. What was taking so long? Had Chief Kincaid changed his mind? Was Boone being locked in a cell this very minute? Damn! Thinking about him being locked in made me remember my phobia, and I started to breathe faster. Immediately, I felt lightheaded. What had I been thinking when I agreed to be shut into a space the size of a walk-in closet? Could I get through this without fainting? If they didn’t hurry, my five minutes with Boone would be spent with him trying to get me up off the floor.
Just before I started screaming to be released, the door banged opened. A moment later, Boone was shoved across the threshold, where he stood as if in a daze. Instantly, the door was slammed closed and I heard the bolt slide home. It took all my willpower not to run over, pound on the metal, and beg to be let out.
The sound of the lock must have penetrated Boone’s fog, because he lurched across the interrogation room, tripping over his own feet as he nearly fell into the chair. Once seated, he sat slumped forward as if his head was too heavy for his neck to support. This was not the confident, debonair Boone I had known all my life. What in hell had the cops done to him?
“Boone.” I reached out to touch him but drew back. Chief Kincaid had agreed not to attach his handcuffs to the bolt in the middle of the tabletop if we promised to keep the table between us at all times. “Are you okay? What took you so long to get here?”
“I’m physically fine, but emotionally, not so much.” Boone’s hazel eyes were haunted. “The cretins insisted on another body search before they allowed me in here to speak to you. What in heaven’s name did they think I could have possibly gotten my hands on, not to mention concealed, since the last time they patted me down?”
“I hear that a seasoned criminal such as yourself can do wicked things with a paperclip and a rubber band,” I offered in a feeble attempt at humor.
“What? Make a slingshot?” Boone rubbed his temples. “Fat lot of good that would do against the cops’ Berettas and Tasers.”
“Was the officer who searched you at least cute?” I tried once more to get the old Boone back—the fighter who wouldn’t take this lying down.
“No. They chose the ugliest one.” Boone straightened his spine. “That alone will increase the lawsuit I’m filing against the Shadow Bend Police Department by ten thousand dollars.”
“At least.” I smiled my encouragement, then said, “You know they’re recording everything and that we only have five minutes, right?”
“Right.”
“Fine.” He puckered his lips as if he had taken a gulp of sour milk. “You can have five minutes, and don’t forget we’re recording you.”
“Of course.” I shook his hand. “Thank you.”
He smiled and my stomach clenched. I sure hoped I hadn’t just made a deal with the devil.
CHAPTER 7
----
A s I waited for Boone in the interrogation room, I examined my surroundings. Shadow Bend might be a small town, but Chief Kincaid hadn’t skimped when it came to the police station remodel. The space contained only a narrow metal table and two chairs, but one entire wall was glass—obviously, a two-way mirror—and cameras and speakers were placed liberally at intervals near the ceiling.
The chief had written a grant to get the money for the modernization. We all knew that the city council would never have approved the funding, since it was common knowledge that Chief Kincaid thought the present mayor, Geoffrey Eggers, was a complete idiot, and the feeling was mutual. So His Honor and the chief were by no stretch of the imagination on cooperative enough terms for the financing to have come from the town’s coffers.
I glanced at my watch. What was taking so long? Had Chief Kincaid changed his mind? Was Boone being locked in a cell this very minute? Damn! Thinking about him being locked in made me remember my phobia, and I started to breathe faster. Immediately, I felt lightheaded. What had I been thinking when I agreed to be shut into a space the size of a walk-in closet? Could I get through this without fainting? If they didn’t hurry, my five minutes with Boone would be spent with him trying to get me up off the floor.
Just before I started screaming to be released, the door banged opened. A moment later, Boone was shoved across the threshold, where he stood as if in a daze. Instantly, the door was slammed closed and I heard the bolt slide home. It took all my willpower not to run over, pound on the metal, and beg to be let out.
The sound of the lock must have penetrated Boone’s fog, because he lurched across the interrogation room, tripping over his own feet as he nearly fell into the chair. Once seated, he sat slumped forward as if his head was too heavy for his neck to support. This was not the confident, debonair Boone I had known all my life. What in hell had the cops done to him?
“Boone.” I reached out to touch him but drew back. Chief Kincaid had agreed not to attach his handcuffs to the bolt in the middle of the tabletop if we promised to keep the table between us at all times. “Are you okay? What took you so long to get here?”
“I’m physically fine, but emotionally, not so much.” Boone’s hazel eyes were haunted. “The cretins insisted on another body search before they allowed me in here to speak to you. What in heaven’s name did they think I could have possibly gotten my hands on, not to mention concealed, since the last time they patted me down?”
“I hear that a seasoned criminal such as yourself can do wicked things with a paperclip and a rubber band,” I offered in a feeble attempt at humor.
“What? Make a slingshot?” Boone rubbed his temples. “Fat lot of good that would do against the cops’ Berettas and Tasers.”
“Was the officer who searched you at least cute?” I tried once more to get the old Boone back—the fighter who wouldn’t take this lying down.
“No. They chose the ugliest one.” Boone straightened his spine. “That alone will increase the lawsuit I’m filing against the Shadow Bend Police Department by ten thousand dollars.”
“At least.” I smiled my encouragement, then said, “You know they’re recording everything and that we only have five minutes, right?”
“Right.”
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